


Vallaslin

by FoxyWolfMeerkat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Made Up Dalish Culture Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyWolfMeerkat/pseuds/FoxyWolfMeerkat
Summary: The Dalish have their customs, as any group of people would.Dorian just can't believe some honors extend to him.





	Vallaslin

It’s impossible to deny fondness for him. Clever, but sweet first. There’s always… something in his eyes when they’re talking that makes Dorian’s stomach twist. Something that’s only grown stronger since Mother Giselle tried to confront him and… they kissed. Dorian can’t tell if he’s desperate or terrified to find out what it is.  
Which is probably why they’ve barely spoke about it.  
There’s an ‘Us‘. That much he knew for certain.  
The elf visited him and his corner of the library frequently. Made small talk. Sometimes grabbed a book.  
Like now, for example. They were practically shoulder to shoulder (height difference aside) as Hanhari brushed his pointer over the spines, eyes glancing over titles.He’d mentioned once that his quarters had a decent collection of it’s own (which Dorian had every intention to look through if he ever got the chance), so nothing about this was subtle.  
Dorian knew he’d been staring, but he didn’t realize he’d reached up to touch until Hanhari stiffened up.  
His skin was warm, tattoos raised just a tiny bit under his knuckles. The eyes wide with shock sort of ruined the moment. Which got quite a bit worse when the smaller man scrambled back away from him, his own hand cupping the cheek Dorian had made contact with.  
“Han-“  
And just like that, he bolted.

\-----

Tearing the library apart, Dorian tried not to curse when he found no books whatsoever about the Dalish. Which was completely unacceptable given who the Inquisitor was. He had been looking before now of course, but it hadn’t seemed urgent at the time. If he had any truly pressing questions it would be simple enough to ask the man himself. He was friendly and open, happy to share surely. But now he’d offended the other and he wasn’t sure how! They’d kissed, how offensive could a light touch be?!  
Too affectionate maybe?

A soft clearing of someone’s throat jerked Dorian out of his panic. Turning towards the sound, Dorian tried to look calmer than he was. With raised brows, Solas offered him a book.

_Kaffas!_

“I believe you dropped this?“

Yes. Right over the railing and down to the bottom story apparently. Gingerly, he relieved the other mage of the tome. “My apologies Solas. I’m just… frustrated with our book collection.“  
“Oh? Is there something we can get for you Dorian?“  
Leliana. Of course she noticed.  
“I…“ No real point in lying he supposed. The woman either already knew the truth or would find it in short order. “I was curious about Dalish customs, and find myself coming up quite empty handed.“  
Solas seemed surprised, “Perhaps I can assist. That is, if there was something in particular you wanted to know.“  
Leliana put a hand on her hip, smirking that damned knowing smirk of hers.  
Dorian did his best to ignore it. “Yes, actually… What are… their attitudes about casual touches?“  
Why couldn’t he make that sound better? Less unspeakably obvious?  
“Well,“ Solas scowled slightly, “that depends on where and how exactly you mean.“  
Leliana perked up in interest, “So there are differences?“  
“Indeed there are, but only a few.“  
Dorian fought the urge to hide in a corner as a result of the casual discussion. This was embarrassing, and it had better be worth it. “What about face touching then? Like, say, a touch on the cheek?“  
“Intimate. Extremely intimate to say the least. Particularly if the vallaslin are involved.“  
Leliana smiled, “I see! That’s very good to know. Who would be allotted such intimacies, if I might ask?“  
“The Keeper. Certain family members depending on the individual. Bonded pairs especially however. I do not know from personal experience but my understanding is that the markings are exceptionally sensitive.“  
“Not to mention how proud they are of them,“ Leliana surmised, “it must be quite a show of trust.“  
Solas didn’t seem pleased by the idea, but nodded. “Indeed. Having a scar disrupt the lines is regarded as… shameful in a way. It is quite a show of trust that the other individual will not destroy it.“

So… he’d simply overstepped a boundary? Granted it seemed to be an important boundary.

“You look a bit pale, Dorian.“ Leliana sounded terribly smug, “You didn’t happen to touch the Inquisitor’s vallaslin, did you?“

\-----

As soon as the door closed behind him, Hanhari slipped down to the floor. He knew he had to be just scarlet. His ears probably nearly matched his vallaslin.

His vallaslin. Which he hadn’t let anyone else touch for years.  
Maker, Creators, someone help him, he’d felt that all the way down to his toes.

He suppressed his giddy giggles. Dorian probably didn’t even know what he’d done! He’d have to explain it, but later. After he’d calmed down. Though it wasn’t clear if that’d even help, but it was worth a shot.

He may as well get some work done while he was here.

\-----

Waiting was agony. If he cared less, he may have already gone to Hanhari’s quarters and begged for forgiveness but he couldn’t, didn’t dare go in and the only alternative involved making a scene. Equally unacceptable.  
So Dorian sat in his chair, trying to read, and waited. He took dinner in the library out of nerves.  
Between the aforementioned nerves and his stuffy palate however, he didn’t have much of an appetite. The increasingly quality food wasn’t something to complain about, but it had the bizarre side effect of making him homesick.  
“Dorian?“  
Despite having been waiting for it (or maybe because of that), the Herald’s soft voice made him nearly jump out of his chair.  
“Easy! I won’t bite.“ His head tilted almost playfully to the side but he sounded rather worried. Too sweet for his own good, honestly.  
“Oh? And what if I wanted you to?“ Maybe it was out of habit, but playing it cool had the enjoyable side effect of making the other man smile.  
“I need to talk to you. About earlier.“  
Dorian swallowed down the curl of dread. “What about earlier?“  
“I… Well, firstly I’m sorry for running off like I did. That was a bit childish of me.“  
The Tevinter mage waved him off, “No harm done, apology accepted.“  
“Secondly then… I need to explain something about my vallaslin. The tattoos? They’re… sensitve. You didn’t hurt me, before you start to worry, but- Hm… Warn me next time maybe? Or perhaps just ask? I know you didn’t mean any harm but it was a bit of a shock.“  
Dorian was immensely glad he wasn’t the sort to gape when shocked. Regardless, the other man seemed to see through his lack of a reaction to the invitation.  
“Dorian? Is something wrong?“  
“I… No, of course not. It’s just… After you ran off….“

 _‘Bonded pairs especially-‘_  
No… Surely he didn’t mean it like that! Impossible. He wanted to be asked first so he could refuse but still leave the invitation in the air so Dorian would feel more welcome. That’s what it was.

He threw on a smile, “Frankly I was worried you’d never want to come near me again!“  
“Nothing so melodramatic, I assure you. Besides, I’d miss your company. I’ve gotten too used to it for my own good.“  
“Oh dear, now that is quite the predicament! It’s a good thing I’m marvelous, isn’t it?“  
“Definitely.“

**Author's Note:**

> Story can also be found on my writing Tumblr, here:  
> http://sparemyocs.tumblr.com/post/162668187666/vallaslin


End file.
